Lips like Passion
by BirukiMeraki
Summary: She closed her eyes slowly. Breathe in. Hold for a second. Breathe out. It was wonderfully gratifying. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe ou-. Marinette's eyes flew open, blinking to get used to the low light again. "Hello, Chat Noir," she said up to the dark ceiling.


A/N: Inspired by this one post on Tumblr (PM me for the link!) initially I have no idea what happened. And it had to be Marichat for some reason. Also, if you liked this you can now send me prompts on to my Tumblr!

The night was cool, the air still. Even with the window open, no breeze wafted in, bringing the sweet smells of summer. Outside the city remained as it were, cars zooming by, people chattering or laughing; the normal sounds you hear in any city.

Marinette lay spreadeagled in bed, listening to the outside sounds through the open window. The entire house was asleep already, even though it was only 9pm. Bakers need to be up early, anyway. Her room was shrouded in darkness, the only light came from the waning moon; a poor light source. She stretched out as far as she could go, the tips of her fingers just brushing the edges of her bed. She took in slow, deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes this was all she needed to unwind. She closed her eyes slowly. Breathe in. Hold for a second. Breathe out. It was wonderfully gratifying. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe ou-.

Marinette's eyes flew open, blinking to get used to the low light again. "Hello, Chat Noir," she said up to the dark ceiling.

A rustle. The tips of a pair of pointed ears appeared next to her, followed by the silhouette of a messy-haired head that she knew would be blonde. "You are very good, Princess. Every single time. How?"

Marinette sat up and smiled at him, then remembering that he probably couldn't see it. Or maybe he could. Cat's eyes and all. So she reached over and petted his head, eliciting the small purr a cat gives when you surprise it. "A lady never tells her secrets." She patted the bed next to her. An invitation.

Chat Noir hoisted himself on to the bed and settled in opposite her. "I thought that was magicians."

"Is there a difference?" She quirked a small smile. She'd gotten used to his nocturnal visits at this point. One of the reasons she was still up. And also why the window is open. The visits were so frequent that she knew, in the cover of darkness like this, he was more vulnerable. Less arrogant. She liked that. "So how are you, Chat?"

"Me?" He began incredulously. "Why, Princess, I'm purrfectly feline! Just thought I'd drop by and chat. A chat with Chat," he purred.

His back was facing the moon. He can see her, but he was silhouetted against her. Marinette leaned forward and put a hand on where she thought would be where his is. It was and she grasped it briefly.

"A chat with Chat," she repeated gently, squeezing his hand quickly before beginning to let it go as she leaned back.

Her hand slid out of his until he grasped the very tips of her fingers. He squeezed them firmly. "Hey, Princess," he murmured softly. "Do you think people like me?"

"What?"

"If I wasn't who I was, would people still like me? For who I am? I feel like I'm always wearing a mask."

Marinette stared at his silhouette and knew he wasn't talking as Chat Noir. "A different mask for different people?" she asked tentatively.

A rustle. Chat Noir shifted positions and fidgeted with a crease in the sheets. She could hear the sheets against his claws. She saw him give the smallest of nods, which she could only make out because when he moved his head the weak moonlight streamed into her eyes for the most transitory of moments.

"Why are you afraid, Chat?"

There was a long stretch of silence as she listened to him breathe. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. She counted the breaths he took. Fifteen in total.

"I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing."

She remained silent but wiggled her fingers in his hand encouragingly.

"I'm afraid that if I do the wrong thing, what little I have, I will lose," he continued cryptically. "If I don't obey, I will lose. If I don't hide, I will lose. Now I wonder, if I didn't put on my mask, will I lose?"

Marinette thought about it for a moment. "You're afraid that if the mask breaks you'll be alone?"

Another small nod. She wiggled her fingers again.

"Well I like you," she said decisively. "And one is better than none, is it not? So you won't be alone. You'll be okay."

Chat Noir thought about it for a long while. "You didn't seem like you liked me when I first came over," he pointed out.

"Well when you first came over you were this confident little cat who thinks I've adopted it," came the honest reply and Chat put a hand on his chest and gasped dramatically. "But now I see you're just a stray who needs a friend. And I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is that confident little kitty who thinks I owe him something."

Marinette kind of felt bad when she blurted that out but it was too late to take it back, she thinks. She's glad for the bad lighting, her cheeks were burning in shame at what she just said.

Suddenly, Chat Noir hunched forward, pulling her to him as he crossed his arms across his middle.

"Chat?" Marinette gasped as she came face to face with this mass of blonde hair.

It took her a while to figure out that he was laughing. Laughter so violent he shook the bed, yet so silent so as not to disturb her parents.

"What?" she huffed.

It took him some time to compose himself. "Okay, I kind of deserve that," he admitted as he wiped at one eye with his hand, dragging her hand with him. She felt the wetness, instantly cooling on her skin.

But it didn't stop.

He hunched over again and this time she felt it on her arm. Small dots of wetness, cooling on her skin. She moved forward and took him in her embrace, wrapping a hand around his shoulders as she patted the back of his head.

"I'm so afraid," he whispered, over and over again. "I'm so alone, but I don't want to be. I'm so afraid. I'm so afraid. I'm so afraid."

"Shh," she soothed him, stroking his hair. "It's okay to be afraid. To fear is natural. I'm here; stop believing that you're alone."

"But what if you leave?"

"Then you'll find me," she replied simply. "Cats always do."

"Why am I so afraid?" he asked.

Marinette was quiet as she thought it over, absentmindedly patting his head as she did. "I don't know, Chat," she admitted later. "I feel like only you might know the answer to this. But while you look for the answer, I'll help you. In any way I can."

They sat there together, him in her arms as the moon began its slow ascent over the inky black sky. She stopped counting his breathing, focusing on the way his heart slowed down. The moon shifted its position in the sky and now bathed both of them in its light.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

But neither moved. Nor did they make any intention of moving known.

Finally, Chat looked up, half his face in silhouette. "I'm so sorry for this, Princess."

She just looked at him, eyes brimming in empathy. She blinked her eyes rapidly. "No problem," she tried to smile.

Chat Noir laughed. "Why are you crying?"

Laughing along, she pressed at her eye with the heel of her palm. "I'm not sure."

"I don't need your sympathy," he tossed his head, the scorned cat.

She grinned and patted his head. "Maybe you just need my empathy," she suggested, still laughing slightly.

He stilled like she struck him, body stiff.

She blinked, wondering if she said the wrong thing. "Chat Noir?"

He stared at her in response, half her face shrouded in darkness, the one eye visible to him still with tears clinging to her lashes. His heart clenched painfully, with the small feeling of guilt. "S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi," he growled, hand shooting behind her head.

Before she could even register what was going on, his lips met hers and it was pandemonium. She knew these lips and she was desperately hoping he won't know hers. His hand was firm at the back of her head and she decided against struggling. She opened her mouth and tasted salt on her tongue and wetness on her cheeks.

He was crying.

"S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi," he whispered against her lips and she could tell that it was only partially directed at her.

In her heart, she felt a small twinge of guilt. "S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi," she whispered as she pushed aside all her inhibitions and kissed him back, shocking them both.

Suddenly, the arena changed. He kissed her and she kissed him and sometimes the line blurred to just a kiss. His lips were warm against hers, his teeth sharp as they tugged on her lips.

Her tongue was tentative to him, her hands in his hair the complete opposite. Her hands drifted from his hair to his cheeks many times, wiping away his tears as she did.

And when she did, he wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her closer, even when there was no space left between them. She was mashed against him and he did not want to let go. He banished every thought from his mind, using her lips as his anchor. She was holding him on this Earth. He wasn't going to drift away tonight.

He was desperate. She could taste it. Desperate and afraid. As he pulled her closer, she wiped away tear after tear, opening her mouth as she tried to pour him her empathy. He was right; he didn't need sympathy. But empathy he was lacking. He licked up her empathy like a drowning man who found a desert spring. This was the right thing to do. For right now, this is how she can help.

Time became fluid. They had no idea how much time has passed or if it has passed at all. They had found the secret to immortality and they used it almost selfishly.

"Désolé," he whispered as he pulled away, panting, his arm still around her waist. Time flowed again.

They were still seated but Marinette still put a hand on his chest to steady herself. She gasped like she was drowning and had just come up for air. She couldn't look at him just yet, in her mind's eye she saw another boy with blonde hair and whispered her own "Désolé."

"I shouldn't have done that," he whispered into the darkness. However, there was little remorse in his tone. "I'm sorry."

In response, she just used the hand on his chest to push herself away. It was awkward to achieve when they're both still sitting on the bed, but she managed it. She still couldn't look him in the eyes.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and they both jumped apart like they were polar opposites on a magnet.

"Marinette?" It was her mother. "Are you okay?"

There was no time to do anything else. She threw her light blanket over him and pushed him against the headboard. She then took her pillow and hugged it against her chest as she quickly lay down on her side, her back facing the door just as the door opened a crack, the hallway light severely slicing the darkness.

Marinette could feel the air ripple as her mother poked a head in. The crack widened and she knew her mother has stepped inside. Her heart, which was just beginning to slow, sped up again. Her head was on Chat's chest as he contorted himself awkwardly to fit in the small space. She could hear his heartbeat in frantic tandem with her own.

Sabine climbed up the stairs to the bed and gazed at her only child for a while and leaned over, placing a hand on Marinette's foot. She whispered, "Goodnight, ma petite," and gave the foot a short squeeze before climbing down the stairs and out the room, closing the door behind her.

Marinette counted his breaths. At fifty she sat up and so did he.

She didn't bother to follow him to the window. She knew that he would, as always, see himself out. She stared at the dark corner of her room, hugging her arms around her.

"Au revoir, Princess," he called out. Another rustle. He's gone.

Marinette kept her eyes on that dark corner. In. Hold. Out. She counted until thirty this time. "Au revoir, idiot Chat," she murmured, straightening out her bed before lying down to welcome sleep.


End file.
